Measuring Up
by CheshireRyan
Summary: Sequel to "The Knights of Lima County." Santana has no idea what to think when Quinn shows up after fourteen years of no contact. How do you take someone back after abandoning you? Quinntana
1. Prodigal Sister

**Disclaimer:** If I owned _Glee_, there would be so many more gay ladies. Honestly. Also, more Brittana awesomeness.

glee-southwriter is a badass beta. Props to her!

If you want, you can follow me on tumblr or ask me questions or whatever. I'm "cheshireryan[dot]tumblr[dot]com"!

**Welcome to Part Two! Just as a heads up, this will be Santana's POV.**

**********Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

* * *

**Prodigal Sister**

**Chapter One**

**January 2, 2026**

"Hey Baby Bee," I say happily as my almost six year old daughter bursts in through the front door of the house. I wrap my arms around her and spin her around in the air quickly before setting her down on top of the counter. Bailey's dark blue eyes are twinkling excitedly, her dirty-blonde hair in messy pigtails. She's like a strange mix of Britt and me. She can be mouthy like me, but she comes up with the same insane sayings like Britt always does. And then I'll see the same glint in her eyes and it chills me to the bone. "What'd you and Momma do today? Go to the grocers and lunch?"

"Yeah!" she grins, legs kicking in the air happily. Brittany starts loading up the pantry from her recyclable bags. "We got lots of Macks an' Jacks. In a box _and_ for lunch." I chuckle at her name for macaroni and cheese. It's her favorite food. Anything involving hot cheese is. I call her _Baby Bee_ for a reason.

"Hey, Bails?" Britt says over her shoulder. "Can you go up to your room for a minute?"

"'Kay, Momma," Bailey responds. I help her down from the counter and watch as she scurries off towards the stairs. There are days where sharing a house with my ex-wife is uncomfortable, but the knowledge that I never have to spend much time apart from my baby girl makes it worth it. I turn to Britt and look at her, not sure what she wants me to know. The last time we sent BeeBee away was so we could talk about the shooting. And I really can't do a conversation of that caliber today. Because that was one of the major deciding-factors on the fact that we'd continue living with each other after the divorce. Her for some sense of safety, me for my sanity.

We might not be in love anymore, but she's still my best friend. She always will be. It's been ingrained in my every action to make sure she's alright. The now-faint scars on her wrists attest to the guilt I've always piled on myself for not paying more attention. Sometimes I wonder if the guilt over her suicide attempt and the thundercloud of the shooting hanging over our heads made us into the strange divorced couple who still get along. Then I think of my friend who divorced his wife after figuring out he was gay. They're still best friends, too. So, maybe me an' Britt aren't so strange.

I dunno. How many people are still friends with their ex? Maybe me and Kevin are just weird. Huh. I dunno. Anyways, we've always been a bit strange.

"Ana," she starts, finally looking at me. I swallow when I see the nervousness in her hands, in the way she holds herself. Brittany might not dance anymore, but she still speaks with her body. Her posture is almost as telling as her eyes. Her eyes look slightly guilty and I brace myself for what comes next. "I, um, I saw someone today at O'Neill's."

Okay... so maybe this won't be a horrible conversation. Maybe it was one of her former students. Maybe it was a fuckbuddy. Maybe it was one of _my_ students. I turn to the dishwasher and start unloading it, humming in response to show I'm still listening as I dry off a plate.

"I saw Quinn at the grocer's." I freeze. _No._ She_ can't_ mean... "Santana, look at me." I set the plate down so I don't break it. Whenever she drops things on me, I always wind up dropping something. And I really don't want to have to get another plate to replace that one. Our dishes are mismatched enough. My eyes slowly meet hers and I see the sadness, the guilt, the nerves. The excitement and hope. _Oh fuck._

"Ana, I saw Lucy Quinn Fabray at O'Neill's today."

"You sure?" I don't know how I manage to speak, but I do. My voice sounds hollow, flat. Monotone. Please let her not be sure. _Please._ Britt nods and I sigh, looking down at the floor.

"Yeah. She went out to lunch with me and Bails." I frown and cross my arms.

"You let _her_ go with you? I don't want someone that fucking flakey around my daughter, Brittany!" I grumble, glaring at the floor. Despite my anger, my... I don't even know what all I feel, but despite that, I know I can't look at Britt like this. Since Bailey was born, she's turned into a Momma Bear and the inner strength she always had is now multiplied, exponentially so. I suddenly understood how my mother came to be. And it's disconcerting, comparing my ex-wife to Mamá. "She's...she's full of bad lessons. Bailey's gotta learn to stick with things. I don't want my daughter learning to be a fucking _quitter!"_

"Santana!" Brittany's voice is steely, unwavering. "Do _not_ speak like that about Quinn. She did what she had to - we _all_ have. Do I need to remind you that we divorced? That's technically quitting. Cut her some slack!"

I breathe out and take my glasses off, closing my eyes. I can feel a headache starting to form, feel myself grow tired already. I suck at fighting with her. It always brings up my guilt. Fucking Christ, I'm so fucking Catholic. Feeling guilt over every fucking little thing. "Yeah, divorce is quitting, but we didn't_ abandon_ each other, Bee. We _still_ live together for Christ's sake!" I'm met with silence and I know that I'm in the wrong. I already knew it, but still. We haven't seen Quinn for fourteen fucking _years_ and now Brittany's sticking up for her?

"I just want to give her another chance, Ana," Brittany sighs. I can hear her start rearranging things in a cupboard, one of her nervous habits when we fight. "Is that too much to ask?"

"I don't know," I sigh. "Why should we? Why should you? What has Quinn done to earn another chance?" I'm met with silence. Even Brittany has paused with her nervous organizing. Sometimes I'm worried that she's gotten OCD like our high school guidance counsellor had.

"Remember the Parable about the prodigal son?" she finally asks. I snort.

"Baby, you're atheist."

"But you're still Catholic, Ana." I sigh and nod my head, having a feeling she's looking at me. If I open my eyes now, I know my headache will only get worse. Christ, I need a fucking nap. "Quinn's like the prodigal son. She was dead, but now she's alive. She was lost, but now she's found. She's the prodigal son, S. Can't you see that?"

I sigh and don't respond.

"I mean, in her case, she's totally like a prodigal sister because she's never been a son and I really don't think she's trans, so I doubt she ever will be. So, Quinn's the prodigal sister." I feel anger welling up in me. I know I shouldn't, but that's one thing I just can't do.

"She's not my sister," I growl angrily, finally looking up at Britt. "Quinn_ isn't_ my fucking sister. Not now, not _ever."_ My ex sighs sadly and her face falls and the guilt starts gnawing at my stomach again.

"I know, honey," she says gently. "I know." Her arms wrap around me, pulling me into her chest and I stay stiff. I don't want her to comfort me. I want my fucking mother. Even now, after all this time, I want mi Mamá. I feel tears start to well up in my eyes and I swear under my breath as I relax into Brittany's embrace. I feel like I'm the world's oldest baby sometimes. Jesus _Christ._

* * *

Me an' BeeBee are playing with her Legos, having a competition on who can make the most "rupturely sound" house for her little yellow-skinned people. There are days where I find her similarities to her mother absolutely adorable. And then there are the days where I wonder if we should maybe look into a tutor or something. I really don't think I could stand it if our daughter was mocked at school because even with easy-to-say words, she's prone to malapropisms. But Britt says it isn't that big a deal yet. Even June had that issue until he was like twelve or so.

"Mamí?" Bailey asks as I try to figure out how to put a door into my building. I was never good at Legos. They were always something that Britt and June and...well,_ she_ did. The three of them would do this for hours. I never really felt that left out, but sometimes now I wish I had tried to get in on it more. Because I'm pretty sure my house is gonna fall to pieces. It's not "rupturely sound" or whatever.

"Yeah, mija?" I ask, looking up at her. Her blue eyes are big and she's chewing on her lip. Goddamn, my kid is fucking adorable. I am so glad that she looked more like Britt than me and my family. The only thing she really got from us is the curl to her hair and the ability to get a tan instead of freckles.

"Momma said that the Quinn lady was familia?" I sigh and put down the little Lego brick. "I've never met her 'afore."

"She's..." I trail. I'm not really sure how to explain Lucy Q to my daughter. I guess I could just go with what Britt said earlier. "She's your Momma's little sister, baby." Bailey's eyes widen and her mouth opens in an 'O.'

"So she's... Tante Quinn?" Her nose wrinkles cutely as she tries to pronounce the Dutch correctly and I poke it with a finger, making a_ boop_ noise. "I've got like...four aunts?"

"Yep," I said with a small smile. "You've got like four aunts."

"Cool." She sticks a Lego person in her house before looking back up at me. "Where she been at?" I laugh a bit. She's inquisitive and I love that about her. It makes things so much fun, even if she's questioning things that aren't things I really want to talk about.

"I dunno, mija. Your tante hasn't been real good at keeping touch."

"She's been in New York, Bails," Brittany's voice says from the doorway. "She and Tio Ed were roommates for a while." Bailey's eyes widen a bit at the name of her favorite uncle. I think she's one of the few people in our family who calls June by his real name. If she doesn't just call him_ Tio_, that is. I know my eyebrows are almost up in my hair at that bit of info. I didn't know that. But, then again, we never really visit June at his apartment. He always comes up here. "Anyways, it's time for bed."

Our daughter groans and grumbles as we pick up her Legos, putting them in the bin before she wanders off to the bathroom. I stand up slowly before I look over at Britt.

"How long have you known?" Her eyebrows furrow for a minute before she responds with a chuckle.

"Oh. About Quinn and June? She told me at lunch." She shrugs. "They lived together while she worked on her graduate stuff and he was undergrad at NYU." I closed my eyes with a sigh. Figures. They had always been close. _Why hadn't I just asked him where she was?_ Of course he knew. I mean, I knew he had kept in contact with her, but why had it never crossed my mind to just _ask?_

Brittany wraps me in a hug and kisses my cheek before moving towards the door to help Bailey. "Just because you don't see her as family doesn't mean your brother and I don't. She's always been ours." I roll my eyes at her and grab a book off the shelf to read to Bailey before she goes to bed.

Later, when I'm in my own bed in my half of the house (otherwise known as the basement), I stare up at the ceiling. Bailey had insisted I stick glow-in-the-dark stars up there because I refused to have a nightlight. But now they just made me think of Lima. I feel myself start to get a bit homesick for a home that still stands, but isn't the same. Mamá isn't there anymore and my familia is all spread out around the country. I roll onto my side and adjust my pillow. Sleep is always tricky.

* * *

_"Mija?" Mamá's voice says. I look up from where I'm pouring lemonade into a glass. She hasn't been feeling real well lately, so I've been making sure to be on my best behavior. "Your friend Lucy?" I nod, waiting to hear what she wants me to do about Lucy. My newest friend is kind of quiet, kind of scared. She follows me an' Bee around a lot and kind of cowers when me an' Diego fight. Or me an' Justin at school fight. Well, she just cowers when anyone fights._

_"Mija," Mamá says, twisting her hands together. "You have seen her bruises, sí?" I nod. It's really hard not to. Sometimes I wonder why she's so timid if she's such a daredevil when she's not at school. It doesn't really make much sense, but people are weird sometimes. Especially brothers. Maybe Lucy is like a brother with her weirdness._

_"I need you to promise me that you'll protect her at school, okay mija?" I frown at this, but I nod. Of course I'll protect Lucy. She's...she's like a little sister, I guess._

_"Sí, Mamá. I'll look after her. Just like I do for Bee." Mamá pulls me into a hug and holds me tightly for a minute. I look at her not really sure why she looks so worried._

_"You will protect her at school, I will protect her here." I don't get it, so I finally ask._

_"Why do we need to protect Lucy, Mamá?" She shakes her head before heading to the doorway._

_"Lucy will tell you with time. Promise me you won't bother her with it?" I sigh and nod. When my mother tries to get all mysterious, I get kind of annoyed. Why can't she just tell me? Mamá smiles at me, but her eyes are sad. It's not a new thing, she's been sad for as long as I can remember. I blame it on mi padre. He's a jerk. Diego calls him an ass, but Mamá would smack me upside the head if I said that word. Or she'd stick a bar of soap in my mouth. Probably both and then make me say the rosary or something._

_"Te prometo I won't bother Lucy."_

_"Good," Mamá says. She leaves and I am left standing by the counter, confused. Junior wobbles from where he was sitting on the floor with his blocks and grasps at my leg. I run my hand over his curly hair and smile down at him. I guess protecting Lucy is good practice for when hermanito is older and I need to protect him too. I guess Lucy can be a little sister for a bit._


	2. Disconnected

**Disclaimer:** If I owned _Glee_, there would be so many more gay ladies. Honestly. Also, more Brittana awesomeness.

glee-southwriter is a badass beta. Props to her!

If you want, you can follow me on tumblr or ask me questions or whatever. I'm "cheshireryan[dot]tumblr[dot]com"!

**********Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

* * *

**Disconnected**

**Chapter Two**

**January 5, 2026**

I cradle my cup of steaming black coffee like it's my firstborn child (sorry Bailey) as I slide into my seat next to Kevin McCullough. He's been my best friend since I started teaching at South Boston Senior High School. We share a classroom and work in such close quarters during lunch that we kind of had to become friends. He was there for me when Bailey was born, Britt and I got divorced, the shooting. I was there for him when he was struggling through his own divorce. Hell, I even took him to his first gay bar and acted as wingman. And I fucking _hate_ bars. We're bros, so we've got each other's backs.

"How was your night?" I ask, sipping my coffee carefully and still getting my tongue scalded. I swear under my breath and look over at Kev.

"My date with Dante went well," he grins, his eyes crinkling. I know that grin. That's the patented McCullough _I-just-got-laid_ grin. And now he's gonna try to change the subject... "How was your evening?" _Called it._

"Obviously not as good as yours. Spill." He starts to open his mouth as our principal, Dr. Molinelli, walks in. She waves her arms, getting the crowd to shut up for a minute. She's a tiny, African American woman who stands at maybe five feet tall and I always give her props because there was an incident with an angry father and he was at least a foot and a half taller than her. He was spitting and screaming and she just stood her ground, hands on her hips and gave the man a steely glare until he shouted himself out. I had been there for it, seeing how the man's kid had misbehaved in my class enough to warrant suspension. When he chilled out, chest heaving and face red, she raised an eyebrow and simply asked, _You finished?_ before verbally whipping him.

Yeah. Dr. Molinelli is fucking _beast._

"The beginning of second semester is on Monday, and I'm sure you're all wondering who I found to replace Miranda Davis as our school guidance counselor." There's a slight murmuring. Miranda Davis passed away the second week of December, shocking the entire school body because she was barely thirty-four. The autopsy that her family consented to showed that she had died of an enlarged heart. "Our replacement is new to Boston, so I hope you all give her a warm welcome. I'd like to introduce Dr. Lucy Fabray." As the others start to clap, I sit frozen.

Quinn isn't blonde, at least not as blonde as she had been in high school. Her hair is darker, more red than I can remember her being since she first started dyeing her hair blonde. I guess she started letting her natural color come through. But the strangest, most disturbing thing is that she's Lucy again. And that she's _here_. Here at _my_ school. What the fuck?

Dr. Molinelli ushers her to a seat and then starts talking about what her goals are for the semester, academically and community service-wise. But, as she speaks, Quinn spots me. So much for hoping that glasses would work for me like they did for Clark Kent/Superman. She pauses, eyebrows going up and her mouth opens a bit before she continues to an empty seat about twenty feet away.

_Fuck._

When the meeting is over, a lot of the faculty go and introduce themselves to Quinn. I hang back, not sure I want to. Kevin notices and wraps an arm around my shoulders.

"You don't have to go say hi if you don't want, Slopez," he says. I roll my eyes and he squeezes my shoulder before heading over her way. I follow, but hang back. Do I want to say hi, talk to her? She hasn't bothered even letting me know that she was alive in fourteen years. I'm pretty sure that warrants me giving her the silent treatment. Lucy-fucking-Q is lucky that Snix retired years ago, otherwise I'd be getting all Lima Heights up in here.

I watch as Kevin shakes her hand and they speak quickly. She laughs and her eyes find me. I hold her gaze for a moment before looking away, pulling my phone out of my pocket. I start a text to Britt, trying to tell her that I'll take Bailey tonight if she wants to go out. But my fingers aren't cooperating and autocorrect is trying to drive me insane. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I jerk up to find Kevin looking at me.

"Hey," he says, jerking his chin to the door. "Let's go get a doughnut. You look like you need it."

* * *

_My finger presses down on the call button and I bring the phone up to my ear. I bite my lip, hoping that she'll pick up this time. It rings and rings, eventually going over into voicemail. "Hey, you've reached Quinn Fabray. Leave a message and number and I'll get back to you."_

_"Hey Q," I say, trying to keep the anxiety out of my voice. "It's me again. Can you call me back so I at least know you're not dead in a ditch somewhere? Because a repeat of February is totally not cool. I know you an' Bee are fighting, but damn. I'm having an aneurism or something. Please just let me know you're all right?" I fumble with my phone, ending the call as I feel tears start to build up in my eyes. I duck my head, trying not to let them fall, and I see an envelope on my desk. My name is scrawled across it in Quinn's half-messy, half-neat writing. I pick it up, my hands shaking. I feel the urge to start praying to God or Mary or whoever the fuck else might help that this isn't a suicide note._

* * *

_"Where the fuck are you, Lucy Q? Get your ass back here and fucking explain this shit to me. What do you mean you feel like you aren't fucking worthy? What the fucking fuck? I'mma find out where you are and tie your ass down until you explain this bullshit to me. Because goddamnit, Q, you're...gah!"_

* * *

_"Graduated with honors yesterday. I'm moving up to Boston to live with Bee. I don't know if you're still in New Haven or if you're even alive anymore, but if you want me to, I can come say hi. It's kind of dumb to even expect you to call me back, isn't it? I haven't heard from you in four years, Lucy. I miss you."_

* * *

_"We're sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and call again."_

* * *

"Hey Jason," I say as I open the door. Brittany's boyfriend enters the house, taking his shoes off and lining them up alongside ours. He shrugs his coat off and I take it from him to hang in the hall closet.

"Hi Santana," he says, smiling at me. He's pretty good looking for a guy, wavy reddish-blonde hair and bright blue eyes. If he and Britt hadn't have told me, I would've never known that he was born a woman. Which, now that I think about it, totally sounds like a douchey thing to say, but it's true. I would've never known.

"Britt's getting the meatloaf out of the oven, so go help her out if you want." He brightens up at that and disappears down the hall to the kitchen. I can hear my ex and daughter squealing at the sight of him. At first, I didn't know what to think of him, of the fact that Britt was now dating a guy. I mean, yeah, so she was into everyone, but _still._ It was weird and because of the fact that we live together, if they have sex, it's when she crashes at his place. And because of that, I totally know what's happening and when. Or, at least, I suspect it.

But, as for how he is with Bailey...well, I've gotten better about it. He's a good guy, kind of shy and awkward (he _is_ one of Britt's fellow professors at MIT and they're all a bunch of nerds), and Bailey says he's fun to play horsey with. I am perfectly fine with that. He can bust his knees pretending to be her horse. Sometimes I find it amusing that my kid has him whipped more than Britt seems to.

I go back to the living room and shut my laptop down before wandering into the kitchen. Jason is carrying the glass dish of meatloaf over to the set table and Britt is making mashed potatoes. Her cooking skills have gotten a million times better since college. She claims it's because chemistry made it make more sense. I think it's because she actually had to start feeding herself.

I mutter_ grace_ under my breath as the four of us sit down, me next to Bailey and Britt and Jason across from us. People always wonder why I'm so good about her and Jason being together. To be honest, I wasn't at first. But, Britt is my person. She's my best friend and I just want her to be happy no matter what. It's all I've ever wanted for her and if Jay makes her happy, so be it. Hell, I'll even be a bridesmaid at the fucking wedding.

Dinner is as lively as it always is when Bailey has her playmate around. They giggle and joke and make faces while Bee and I try to pretend to be adults. It never really works though, because we always give in and join them. I was the one who taught Bailey the fine art of mashed-potato sculpture after all.

When dinner is over, me and Baby Bee clear the table so the couple can have a spare moment. She pulls her little step over to the sink and we start rinsing off the dishes together to put in the dishwasher. It's a mindless task, a calming thing when I'm freaking out. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about today. Quinn being back in my life on the peripherals is...confusing. I've missed her a lot, but she fucking betrayed us. I don't get how Britt doesn't get that and is perfectly fine with bringing her back. She left without a word. I can't fucking get over that.

I help Bailey pour soap into the little compartment and close the dishwasher up, turning it on. She grins at me before saying something about Legos and running off. Sometimes I swear that girl is going to be an architect or something when she's older. Wouldn't surprise me at all. But she's not even six yet, so obviously we've still got time before that even happens.

I put the leftovers in tupperware, putting them into the fridge for lunch tomorrow and sigh. Another day almost done._ Great._

"Hey," Britt's voice says from behind me. I look over my shoulder at her and she smiles crookedly. "You okay, Ana?" I shrug.

"I dunno. Where'd Jason go off to?"

"Oh, he has a thing with some of his students tonight. They're going to go blow stuff up together or something." I laugh a bit at that. I remember Jason saying once that growing up, all he wanted to do was be on _Mythbusters_ so he could blow shit up and get paid for it.

"That's cool," I say and move past her to head upstairs.

"Cuddlebug tonight?" she asks. I pause and turn to meet her eyes. They're hopeful, apologetic. Bright and blue. _Goddamnit._

"Yeah, Bee," I say, softening a bit. I very rarely call her that anymore. "Cuddlebug tonight."

* * *

Once Bailey's in bed, I go downstairs and lie down in front of Britt on the couch. Her arms wrap around my middle and she rests her cheek against mine. On days where one of us isn't really sure what to do or think, we do Cuddlebug. It's been a tradition since we were little and I'm not about to break it now that we're divorced. It started as a friendly thing and that's how it's stayed.

"What're you and your nerds going to do on Monday?" I ask, teasing her a bit. She teaches theoretical physics and freshman level intro classes and has tried explaining some of it to me, but I always get lost within a minute or two. Basic physics hurt my head enough in high school.

"We're gonna talk about Loop Quantum Theory in my freshman class. As for the rest, they're just setting up second-semester projects and scheduling appointments with me to talk it out. It's gonna be so cool!" I smile at her level of excitement. It's always refreshing to hear that she loves her job. "What're you gonna do, Ms. Lopez?"

"Crack some fucking skulls," I say. "Last semester's behavior can't continue. I was too lenient and they took advantage of me. So, we're going back to _Ms. Lopez is a bitch_." Britt laughs and squeezes me a bit. We lay in silence a while longer before she speaks up.

"I wish you'd find someone, even just to date a couple of times," she says. "I really wish you'd move on. You're like a sad, lonely panda and it hurts my heart to see."

"I'm fine, Bee," I say softly, reassuringly. "I promise I'm fine."

"I know you're 'fine,' but you're my best friend, Ana. I don't want you to be a crazy cat lady." I laugh lightly at that.

"Don't worry, Bee. I won't be a crazy cat lady. I've got you and Jason and Bailey and Kevin to make sure of that." I snuggle back into her. Worrying Britt is something I hate doing, so I always do my best to reassure her that there's nothing to worry about.

"And Quinn. You'll have Quinn when you forgive her." I sigh and roll my eyes.

"Whatever, Bee. Whatever you say."


	3. Speak of the Devil

**Disclaimer:** If I owned _Glee_, there would be so many more gay ladies. Honestly. Also, more Brittana awesomeness.

glee-southwriter is a badass beta. Props to her!

If you want, you can follow me on tumblr or ask me questions or whatever. I'm "cheshireryan[dot]tumblr[dot]com"!

**********Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

* * *

**Speak of the Devil**

**Chapter Three**

**January 8, 2026**

"Dickenson!" I call across the hall. "Scholl! Knock it off!" Two boys from my sophomore US history class are arguing, all up in each other's faces, and I roll my eyes as I head over to them so I can pull them apart. "Break it up!" I catch Mark Sanchez's eye as the boys start swinging and he heads over to where I am, leaving his conversation with a few of his kids. He grabs Scholl around the waist and pulls him back as I grab Dickenson. My idiot boy is bleeding, his lip split open and Sanchez's has a bloody fist and a black eye that's coming in nicely. _Fucking morons._

The school's police liaison finally appears and helps us escort the two idiots to the main office. I push Dickenson into a chair and stand next to him, my arms crossed. I might be tiny in comparison to the four guys, but I'm not scared of them. Snix might be retired, but bitches be trippin' if they think they can take me.

Dr. Molinelli walks out into the outer office and frowns slightly. "Eric, Aaron. What are you doing in my office again? You best not be getting blood on my upholstery." I bite back a laugh at her fake outrage over the peice of shit plastic chairs. God this woman is a fucking comedian. "Eric, come with me." Dickenson stands up and I move to hand him a wad of kleenex off of the secretary's desk as he passes me. He mumbles a _thanks_ and I know that his mother's gonna kick his ass verbally when she finds out he's fighting again. I've met her a few times at conferences and she's always disappointed with her son. I feel bad for the kid sometimes. But then he starts fighting again and I just grab him and walk his ass back to the principal's office. I wish he wasn't always being such a damn dumbass.

I look over to Sanchez and Officer O'Kane. "You got this?" I receive two nods and a smile from my fellow teacher. Sometimes I think he has a thing for me and I hope to God he doesn't. One, I'm gay. Two, no. And three? _No._ Because no. We work together and Jesus-fucking-_Christ_ I can't deal with the drama that would cause. I hope he gets over whatever's up with him soon because I'm not in the mood for it.

I head out the door and back down the hall to where the history classrooms are at. I pass by the counseling office and, out of nothing but pure curiosity, I look in. I can see a kid sitting in front of a desk and...oh yeah. _Quinn._

_Well that's fucking dandy,_ I grumble mentally as I continue my walk back to my class. I open the door and my students quiet down quickly. I'm not sure if they can tell I'm not in the mood or if it's that I have a scowl on my face, but I hope that they get the idea that I'm not down for moody teenage bullshit today.

I head back into my corner and grab my notebook. I uncap a whiteboard marker and start my lecture on WWI. If anyone misbehaves today, I'm totally assigning essays. Ten pages should do the trick. Teach these idiots a lesson.

It's not that I hate kids or my job, it's just that...well, today is a shitty day already. Dickenson has so much fucking potential but he can't get his head out of his fucking ass. He's like the Noah Puckerman of the group and I just want to sit him down and make him understand that he can do something with his life besides fight and be a moron. That he _can_ make his mother proud and all he has to do to do that is fucking behave. Stop getting such a fucking hot head.

I guess that's not all that's up with me, though. I mean, yeah, so I'm disappointed. But then there's the fact that Bailey is home with a stomach virus and the... there's the whole thing with Quinn at _my_ fucking school. Like seriously. Why now? Why here? I finish writing out the notes and continue with my lecture, adding in a few jokes to lighten things up a bit. As much as you can lighten up trench warfare, anyways...

* * *

I sit down on the linoleum, watching down on the commons as I unwrap my bologna sandwich. A month or so ago, Bailey asked us why she never got to have PB&J sandwiches like the other kids at school. So then we had to teach her about peanut allergies. She looked at me with big, fearful blue eyes and I hated the fact that I scared her unintentionally. But we didn't have peanut butter in our house so she wouldn't have to see what would happen if I accidentally ingested some.

That's why I tend to eat my lunch alone, away from the students and teachers. Because I don't want to accidentally touch some peanut-type particle and then get it near my face. Yes, I do have an EpiPen with me in my pocket for emergencies, but I don't like using it. Needles fucking freak me out.

I take a bite of my sandwich, chewing thoughtfully as I watch people wander below the balcony. Teenage couples holding hands, a couple nerds arguing over something, a teacher or two. I reach for my water bottle, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig. My thoughts go back to Brittany then. She's been hounding me to try to get me to talk to Quinn, say hi at least. I usually argue back that if she wants to talk to me, she can do so first. Because she abandoned me, abandoned us. We never did that to her.

I can hear footsteps behind me and I turn my head slightly to see someone standing just behind my shoulder. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The person moves a bit closer and sits down a foot or so away from me. Quinn. Or, rather, Dr._ Lucy_ Fabray. Speak of the fucking devil.

_Great._ Now even my fucking lunch spot has been taken over by her. Goddamnit.

I opt to ignore her and finish my lunch before the bell rings for the end of lunch and the start of my next class. She eats an apple, slowly and as quietly as you could ever eat an apple. She looks nervous, pensive. Good. Maybe she'll get the fuck outta my school.

The bell finally rings and I crumple up my brown paper bag, tossing it in the garbage_ (two points!)_ before I stand and walk away. I really don't know what to do around her other than ignore her. So, I'm gonna ignore her.

* * *

I walk down the street to Bailey's school once I'm done, wishing it weren't so fucking cold. One of these days I'd have to get a car. My phone starts going off and I fumble to pull it out of my pocket.

"Lopez," I answer, teeth chattering. I can see the elementary school a couple blocks away, the busses lined up outside. Exhaust is floating up in the air, adding to the rest of the crap that's in the atmosphere.

"Hey Ana," the soft-spoken voice of my younger brother said. "How're you this fine and fucking freezing day?"

"Fucking freezing," I say back with a laugh, cutting it off as I feel my chest go cold. God it's fucking cold. Who the fuck decided on Boston? Why couldn't I have just moved to Florida or something? Why _Boston?_ Seriously. If I were a dude, I'm pretty sure my balls would've frozen off by now. Holy fucking fuck.

June laughs and I roll my eyes. "Anyways, I figured I'd call you and see how you're doing." Something about the way he says that makes me bristle. My eyes widen as I remember that he probably knew._ Little bastard._

"You knew she was gonna work at my school?" I ask incredulously, pausing where I'm walking. The cold is no longer a pressing issue. Now I have to fucking know. Why couldn't the little shit just tell me? Fucking hell, it's not like I'd kill him for having a friend!

Actually, I might've punched him, but whatever.

"Um, I didn't know until she moved up to Boston. And I've sort of been on com silence about all this stuff since like forever."

"But why?" I whine, my teeth starting to chatter again. Sometimes I hate how loyal my brother is. I start heading to the elementary school, hoping to get to stand inside the doors to warm up a bit before grabbing Baby Bee and hopping on the T. "It's not like it would've harmed anything for you to tell me. Jesus Christ."

"She asked me not to," he says simply. "So, besides that, how're you doing? How's my favorite niece and ex-sister-in-law?"

"I'm fine enough. Bailey's getting pretty good at writing her alphabet. She wants to write you a letter sometime, so please start checking your mailbox." I pause as I finally reach the sidewalk leading up into the school. Other parents are milling around, waiting for their kids. Most of them are smart enough to have a car though. Jesus, I need a car.

I pull the door open and practically moan as I feel the heat of the building waft over my face. I yank off my gloves for a moment, shuffling my phone awkwardly.

"Um, Ana? If you're gonna be doing that kinda thing, can you hang up on me first?"

"Oh shut up. If you went somewhere with a heater after walking in like below-zero temps, you'd make the same fucking noise." I hear someone clear their throat and I roll my eyes. Kids aren't even here yet, so they can shut the fuck up.

"Yeah, well whatever. How's Bee doin'?"

"Good. Her and a few of her students are working on a project. And Jason's gonna get all up on that, too. They're pretty good. Happy or whatever." I hear my brother make a clicking noise with his tongue and I roll my eyes.

"Well, that's good to hear." I nod even though he can't see me. The bell rings and I watch in a mix of fear and awe as all the little primary-level students start rushing down the hall towards the doors. There's a reason I teach high school. No tiny little midgets trying to kill me with their enthusiasm. And inability to wipe their own damn noses. I shudder slightly, grateful that Britt taught Bailey to do that when she was like three. Because that was just plain nasty.

"Hey," I say quickly. "I've gotta go before I get mobbed. Llámame, sí?"

"Definitely," he says. "Te amo, Ana." I smile slightly.

"Yo también, hermanito," I say. "Nos vemos." I tap _End Call_ just as little arms wrap around my legs. "Hey BeeBee."

"Mamí!" my daughter squeals as I shove my phone into my pocket. "We made stuff today in art class!"

I raise an eyebrow. "Stuff? Wow! I love _stuff!"_ She nods, not getting my sarcasm. That's probably best seeing how she's like five. I take her mittened hand in mine after making sure she has all she needs in her backpack and that her coat and hat are snug. Together we head out into the cold, heading for the warmth of home. And possibly hot cocoa.

* * *

_"June," I say, flopping down on his bed. It's summer break after my junior year and I figured I'd come home to help Julio and Hannah out with their kids. And check in on my suddenly pubescent little brother. Because I swear to God, if he gets anyone pregnant... "Do you know where Quinn is?" My gangly little brother looks over at me, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly as he swallows. That means yes. "Will you tell her that I miss her? Tell me that she's alive at least? Doing okay?"_

_"I don't know anyone named Quinn," he says, his voice squeaking halfway through. I roll my eyes before staring up at his ceiling. "Lo siento, Ana."_

_"Whatever, hermanito," I sigh. "It's not like she even fucking cares." I feel the bed sink a bit and June wrap his arm around my middle, pulling me into him. I hug him, wishing he didn't smell like Old Spice. I miss the way he used to smell like whatever shampoo or body wash I had in the shower because he rarely cared enough to get his own. He smells grown up now. Why is everything so fucking different? Why did she have to leave? She was fucking family. Now she's just like my fucking father. Goddamnit._

* * *

"I'm having coffee with Quinn on Saturday," Britt says as I finish loading the dishwasher. I pause slightly before shutting it and hitting the on-button. Can we just not talk about this and say we did? Because that's the only fucking thing she seems to find worth talking about anymore and I'm already fucking tired of it.

"That's great, Britt." I turn to face her and Jason, noting how cuddly they are. Guess me and Bailey will have the house to ourselves tonight. I start heading away from them, towards the stairs.

"You can come with if you want," she offers. I can hear the hope in her voice and it wounds me to cut her down. But I have to. I don't want anything to do with that betrayer. Not anymore than I have to because of work.

"I'm good," I say, then lie. "Me an' Kev are doing stuff then." I continue to the stairs and take them two at a time. Bailey's playing with her Legos again and I sit down cross-legged and start helping her. Smashing Lego cars together and building spaceships is fucking simple. So fucking simple it makes me wish I were little again.

If only, if only.


	4. One Man Wrecking Ball

**Disclaimer:** If I owned _Glee_, there would be so many more gay ladies. Honestly. Also, more Brittana awesomeness.

glee-southwriter is a badass beta. Props to her!

If you want, you can follow me on tumblr or ask me questions or whatever. I'm "cheshireryan[dot]tumblr[dot]com"!

**********Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

* * *

**One Man Wrecking Ball**

**Chapter Four**

**January 20, 2026**

We talk now. I mean, it's not really much other than discussing students and fellow co-workers and the Bruins, but still. We're talking. I'm not really sure I want to talk to her, but she just starts up conversations as we sit in my lunch spot. She's invading my life and it really fucking annoys me. I want to ignore her, but I'm not that heartless a bitch. Even if she is pretty much my least favorite person.

Today, she's coming and talking in my homeroom to my students about peer pressure. I watch her as she stands in front of the class, her hands folded together as she speaks. I'm not entirely sure how she's managed to have them completely captivated by her, but she has. They're hanging on word-for-word and I realize that maybe I should be paying more attention.

"Hey Doc?" one of the boys asks. "How do you know all this?" She shrugs.

"I was there. Remember that all adults have been to some form of high school, but they'll probably pretend to not remember what you're talking about." She glances over at me as my students start talking to each other. The bell rings and they all scramble to get their shit and leave. I flip through my gradebook. Most stuff is electronic anymore, but I still prefer doing the grades by hand just in case some idiot figures out how to hack our system.

"So, that Dickenson kid," Quinn starts. I look up at her, eyebrow raised. She fidgets with a pen before continuing. "Apparently you're the only teacher who doesn't think he's going to be stuck working at McDonalds the rest of his life." I nod slowly, not really sure why we're talking about this.

"He won't if I can just get him to sit his ass down and do his work," I say. "He's brilliant if you can get him to hold a conversation with you." Quinn nods.

"I have a meeting with him and his mother in a few weeks and he's asked me to see if you would come with." I bite my lip for a minute before nodding.

"When? Because if it's after school, I'll have to see if Bee can get Bails from school." Quinn smiles at me before pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket.

"February 16 at noon. It's an in-service day for high school only, so you won't have to worry about Bailey." I nod and take the paper, tucking it into my planner. "See you at lunch, Ms. Lopez."

* * *

I tap the remote against the arm of the couch absentmindedly as I watch the news guy predict even _more_ snow. Goddamnit. I should've moved to fucking Miami or LA or something. It's too fucking cold up here. I can feel the couch sink a bit as Britt flops onto it. She just got back from Jason's a few minutes ago, having headed upstairs to kiss Bailey goodnight.

"I invited Quinn over for dinner next week," she says. I freeze before hitting the _mute_ button and staring at her in shock. Why are we inviting the traitor into our _home?_ "I really want you to come."

"W-Why?" I stutter. "Why the hell should we take her back, Britt?" Brittany sighs and looks at me with a sad expression. I can feel guilt building in my gut and I wish she didn't have me unintentionally wrapped around her finger. God, we're not even married anymore and I'm _still_ whipped. Goddamnit.

"She's my little sister, Ana. I've missed her a lot." She shrugs before adding, "I kind of totally understand why she did what she did. I can't say I'd do the same thing, but I get it." I raise an eyebrow, hoping she'll explain that further. I never got much of an explanation about Quinn's actions other than a few short paragraphs about feeling unworthy and undeserving amongst the other bullshit. I wish she could've just _talked_ to me.

"You wanna explain that?" I ask when Britt doesn't say anything more.

"Nope. Not my story to tell," she says. She opens her arms for me and I stand so she can scoot a bit. I lie down in front of her and close my eyes as she wraps her arms around me. As much as I really almost hate Quinn, this stupid mystery is fucking killing me. She betrayed me, yes. But I really want to know why. I want to know why she felt like she didn't deserve me or Britt or our families. And I guess in order to solve this bullshit, I'll have to deal with her.

"Fine," I say, pouting slightly. "I'll come to dinner." I change the topic, wanting to ignore Quinn for a while longer. "How was Jason?"

I can feel her cheek getting hot as she mumbles, "Fine." If I were looking at her, I'd waggle my eyebrows teasingly. They were totally getting it on. I really hope she took a shower before coming home because _ick_. "How's Kevin?"

"As annoying and almost-flamboyant as ever." We fall into a comfortable silence and I nearly fall asleep in her arms. It's when I start to snuggle back into her that I realize something. "Does Jason know about us?"

"That we were married? Yeah. Kind of hard to miss when I have a kid with you," Britt laughs. Her lips press to my temple and I roll my eyes.

"No, I mean, like, _cuddlebug_." I feel Britt freeze for a moment. "Because it's...I dunno how I'd feel if the girl I loved was all touchy-feely with her ex and they lived together."

"He knows," she says quietly. I can hear her voice start to drop into the lower register that it usually gets into when she's upset. _Shit_. "He asked about it a while ago and I explained to him that it makes me feel safer and keeps me from having so many bad days. And he says if it helps, he can't argue against it. Plus, he likes and trusts you." Bad days. Up until her first year as a postdoctoral associate, _bad days_ were simply days where she was starting to get depressed again. Now, however, it means days with flashbacks. I feel my throat and chest start to tighten at the memory of what caused her to develop PTSD.

* * *

_It's my plan period and I have some really old Adele playing on my laptop as I grade tests. It's always amusing to see the random shit my kids draw in the margins and the stupid answers that they give. Like seriously. America was definitely not discovered in 1942. I mean, yeah, it's 2022 and they weren't alive for the nineties, but really? Really. 1942? No._

_The door to Kevin and me's classroom opens and I look to see a flustered Miranda Davis and worried Kevin walking straight towards me. I move to stand and Miranda shakes her head at me, gesturing for me to stay seated. I put my pen down and cross my arms, not really sure what's going on. I've never seen Kevin this worried before._

_"Santana, Kevin is willing to substitute in your classes for the rest of the day," she starts and I frown. Why the fuck would I need Kev to sub for me? What's going on? Fear starts to fill my stomach and chest. "There was a shooter at MIT. The school was on lockdown." My jaw drops and I can feel all the blood leave me. Oh shit. No. No. This can't be happening._

_"W-What?"_

_"They hadn't found the gunman so far, last I heard, and there are casualties. I will make sure you don't get in trouble for leaving and if you need more time off, let me know," she says as I stand and grab my worn leather jacket._

_"Kev, can you bring my shit to me later?" I ask, gesturing at my laptop and papers. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins and I feel jumpy, antsy. I need to go find Britt, need to make sure she's all right. Fuck. We had another argument last night over the divorce and custody and...oh fuck. Please don't let her be dead. She can't be dead. I didn't mean it. Fuck._

_I grab my bag, slinging it over my shoulder and bolting to the nearest exit. I fumble with my phone, calling Bailey's babysitter and telling her that I might be late to get her. My hand shakes a little as I swipe my card to get on the T. Oh God. Please don't let her be dead. She's my favorite person and I just...I didn't mean it. I didn't. I still need her, even if it is in a best-friend capacity. Because she's...she's my fucking Bee! She's still familia! Just because I'm fucking pissed doesn't mean she stopped being my family._

_When I get to the familiar stop, I get off. I can see police barricades and bystanders and hear people freaking out. Ambulances are being loaded and people are crying and screaming and I swallow hard. I recognize a few of the students, some of the faculty. They all look shocked, frozen as they stumble along with the police officers. My phone starts going off and I dig it out, answering quickly._

_"Lopez," I say, wanting to end this call as quickly as I can so I can go look for Britt._

_"Is this Santana Lopez-Pierce?" A man's voice asks. I frown._

_"Yeah, but look, esse. I have to find my-my... I have to find Bee, so can I just call you back later?"_

_"Bee as in Dr. Brittany Lopez-Pierce?" I freeze and manage to eek out a tiny yes. "I'm Dr. Swanson from Boston Memorial. Your wife has been brought in by paramedics from MIT with two gunshots to the abdomen. She's in emergency surgery right now." I'm suddenly not able to feel my body. Oh God. Oh fuck. No._

_"I-I'll be there soon," I say. I fumble with my phone before bending over, retching violently. My eyes water and my throat burns when I'm finally finished. My body trembles and my mind swims as I stumble back to the T. Oh God. Oh God no._

* * *

_Chairs in the waiting room are hard and uncomfortable. Momma Pierce and Jake and Robin are catching a flight out here and June's on a train. Kev and Amy have taken Bailey for the night. It's weird, but I've been here for hours and I barely feel it. I've been so lost in my own head and thoughts and emotions and I just can't leave. I need Britt to stay alive, need her to be here. I might've fallen out of love with her and we've hurt each other, but I fucking love her. She's my best friend and my family. She's the mother of my daughter and I can't be here in Boston by myself and raise Bailey on my own. That's fucked up. Fucking impossible, too._

_My nails are bitten to the quick by now and I wouldn't be surprised if they're bleeding. My hair's probably a mess from me running my fingers through it and I know I've chewed the crap out of my lip. Fuck, I need a cigarette._

_"Lopez-Pierce?" A small woman in scrubs asks. I stand quickly, moving over to where she is. The waiting room has been full of people for a long while and the TV was on news coverage of the shooting before someone begged the people at the desk to turn it to something, anything else. The gunman had killed thirty-seven people and then himself. Another twelve were injured. Including Britt._

_"That's me," I say in a rush when I reach her._

_"I'm Dr. Boetner. I worked on your wife. She's alive and we're moving her up to the ICU for observation. The bullets caused massive internal damage including a pelvis fracture and a collapsed lung. We had to remove her uterus and put her in a medically-induced coma to let her heal. You are welcome to go see her if you want." I stared at this lady, not really sure what to do or say. So, I just follow her to the elevator to go up to the ICU. I stand outside the door when we get there, not sure if I can see her in a hospital bed. I've had nightmares about what it might've been like if she had lost just a bit more blood during her suicide attempt. They still haunt me on occasion and those are just my brain fucking with me. This is real and now and here and I don't think I can do it. But I have to because she's my best friend, she's my person and I need to be there for her despite the fact that it fucking terrifies me._

_I enter the room and stare at her. She's lying in bed, a tube down her throat and I don't think I've ever seen her this pale before. Oh my god. I don't think I can do this. I feel my legs start to tremble and I sit down in a chair quickly, closing my eyes and covering my face with my hands. I can't...I just can't. I can't see her like this. She's not babbling about weirdly-named physics theories, not dancing around the kitchen. She's not cooing at Bailey or smiling or laughing or yelling at me. She's just lying there with needles and wires and a tube breathing for her. This isn't my Brittany. This isn't my Bee._

* * *

_"You're Doc B's wife, right?" I turn to see a young man with a bandaged forehead looking at me. I nodded before grabbing my coffee from the cafeteria lady's hand. "I'm Mike Brahma. Is Doc B okay?" I take a drink of the scalding hot coffee before nodding._

_"Yeah. They put her in a coma, but she should be all right." I don't want to terrify the kid, so I just tell him whatever is good to hear. He breathes out in relief and a small smile makes its way across his lips._

_"Oh thank god. She saved our lives, you know." I frown at this, my eyes going to the bandage on his head. "The guy was trying to get into our classroom and she refused to unlock the door for him. We all climbed out the window while she fought with him. That's how I got this." He gestures at his head. My mouth opens in a slight O and I stare. My Bee saved her students. Holy fuck. I felt tears start to well in my eyes._

_"See you later, kid," I say, voice cracking as I quickly walk away. I need to go see her, need to hold her hand and hope to god she is allowed to wake up soon. My Bee is a motherfucking hero. Holy fucking shit._

* * *

I feel kind of like a creeper, but some part of me has to make sure that she's still alive. So, I'm watching her sleep on the couch. I'm pretty sure that every time I think about that day or even that freaking month, I wind up watching her sleep. Just seeing her chest rise and fall and her nose wrinkle makes me feel better. Probably because there was a long time where she couldn't do that for herself. And it still sort of scares the fuck out of me when she gets out of breath...

One of these days I'm going to have to get over my hang up over this. One of these days, I'm going to have to leave the "nest" or whatever. But it's mostly up to Britt. She wanted us to live together afterwards, so she can decide when we don't. But I swear to God, I'm not living with them after they like get engaged or some shit. Even I have my limits. I'll just get an apartment nearby or something.

I move into the kitchen, trying to shake the hopeless feeling that always seems to get me. Granted, it's not as bad now as it was then, but it's still not awesome. Who the fuck even_ likes_ to feel helpless? Kinky-ass people or something.

When it all happened, I didn't really have anyone. Like, the Pierces were fine with me, but I really didn't feel comfortable talking to them about much of anything. I mean, their daughter and I were getting a divorce. It doesn't matter how long they've known me or I've known them. That just kind of gives me negative points no matter what. So, they were not on the list of possible people to talk to. And obviously June wasn't. He was twenty-one, but he was still sort of a young twenty-one. And we really weren't that close anymore. I mean, after the shooting and whatever, we started talking a lot more, but at that point, we were just... we weren't how we were. So he wasn't on the list.

Hannah and J weren't, though they never really were. And my siblings weren't. The only person I really had on my list of people I trusted enough to talk about this with had fucking vanished into thin air ten years before. So, obviously, I was fucking alone. Or, at least I was emotionally.

Now that I think about it, that might be adding to why I don't really want to talk to Q. First off, she abandoned Britt and me. Second off, I fucking needed her and she wasn't fucking there. She didn't even fucking call and I _know_ she heard about it because Britt was on the goddamned national news over her whole saving-the-students thing. So, like seriously._ What the fuck?_

I really don't understand Britt's reasoning for taking her back, but whatever. If she wants me to try, I'll at least be civil. But Q and I aren't gonna be friends again anytime soon. Fuck _no._ I just want to figure out why the fuck she skipped out on us. And then she can fuck off. Because it's what she does best, right? _Leaving._ Quinn is beastly at leaving and I just want her to do it again. Even if Britt is upset, it'd still be better to have her run away sooner rather than later, right? We can't get that attached again if it just happens now. So...yeah...

I move back to the doorframe that leads to the living room. We aren't really that old, but Britt's hair already has a few white streaks in it and her face is starting to get lined. I _know_ we're not that old, but the things I think about and remember and feel and hell, even the fucking lines on my _own_ face in the morning make me feel ancient. And I'm only thirty-two. Holy _fuck_. But... I guess the fact that we're still here and breathing and moving on with our lives is worth something, right? _It's gotta be..._


	5. A Forced Occasion

**Disclaimer:** If I owned _Glee_, there would be so many more gay ladies. Honestly. Also, more Brittana awesomeness.

glee-southwriter is a badass beta. Props to her! Sorry about the wait!

If you want, you can follow me on tumblr or ask me questions or whatever. I'm "cheshireryan[dot]tumblr[dot]com"!

**********Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

* * *

**A Forced Occasion**

**Chapter Five**

**January 27-28, 2026**

Quinn sitting next to me in silence as I eat my lunch isn't a new thing. It's become routine over the past week or so. She sits down a few feet from me and eats her salad or her granola or whatever else healthy shit she brought this time. One day I'll bring a bacon-sandwich just to torment her with as I eat it. That'll teach her to intrude on my alone-time.

"Hey, Santana?" I look over at her. Her eyes don't meet mine so I flick a Cheeto her way. She jerks slightly and looks up at me. "So, Brittany wants me to come over for dinner tomorrow night. I just figured I'd double check and make sure that you're okay with it?"

"Whatever. It's fine with me. Just be on time and pretend to want to have something to do with us, will you? Because if you hurt Britt, I'll go_ all_ Lima Heights on your little white-girl ass." I am _so_ glad she doesn't know that Snix has retired. Threatening her wouldn't work then, though I kinda doubt it even would now.

Quinn's mouth opens and closes a few times and I go back to eating my Cheetos. When the bell finally rings and gives me an excuse to get away from this awkwardness, I stand and chuck my balled-up brownbag into the garbage. I start heading down the hall to my classroom.

"Santana!" I turn, not really excited about whatever else comes out of Q's mouth. "I do want to go and I do want to have something to do with you." I bite the inside of my cheek as a co-worker gives me a strange look. I turn and start going back to my class, waving a hand over my head. I can't deal with this shit now.

* * *

The doorbell rings and I pretend I don't hear it. I'm busy with Bailey anyways, so Britt can do it. Bailey looks up at me, pausing the little Lego-car that she's been smashing into a wall. Her dark-blue eyes are serious for a little kid and I can tell she wants to know who's coming over. I hope that it's secretly Jason, but I know it won't be. It'll be Lucy Quinn Fabray and I really don't want to go downstairs just yet. She can be patient and wait for me. Because this is my goddamned house and my fucking life. She ran off, so it's not my job to accommodate her, no matter how much Britt wants her back.

"Ana! Bails!" Britt calls and I groan.

"Is Jason here?" My daughter has a giant grin on her face and I really wish it were him so I wouldn't have to make her disappointed.

"Nah. It's your Tante Quinn." She stares at me before her mouth makes an _O._

"Really?" Her voice goes up in pitch and I grit my teeth while nodding._ I wish not._ "Cool!" She gets up and races out the door, her little feet pounding down the stairs. I really wish she weren't so excited. This is gonna suck.

I follow her down, slowly, moodily. I promised to be civil and I really want to find out why the fuck Quinn thought it'd be okay to bail, but not right now. I'm not feeling the best today and I have a headache and I just... I don't want to. God, I sound like a whiny baby. Jesus fucking _Christ._

"Hi Santana," Quinn says and I sigh before offering a weak response back. Please don't let dinner take forever and _please_ have her go home right after. I need sleep and a painkiller and no human contact for a good eight or so hours. We head into the dining room and Brittany already has the table set and everything placed out. Quinn sits next to Bailey and I sit next to Britt. I'm not really sure why the fuck we're sitting next to each other, but I'm grateful to not be next to Q. That would be all levels of awkward and I'm not sure I'd be able to keep up the civility that Britt requested.

Food is passed around and Quinn even helps Bailey fill her plate up. It's kind of like deja-vu back to when she'd do that for June. I bite the inside of my cheek and stare down at my plate. Just being around her is hard when I feel okay, but right now I just want to go curl up in a ball and die in the privacy of my own bedroom. Emotions and I do not deal well with each other.

Small talk happens and I answer when I should, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. Bailey makes a snowman out of her potatoes and uses carrots for his arms and I try not to chuckle. She's a goof, my Baby Bee. I can see Quinn smiling at her out the corner of my eye and I swallow. Why is she even back?

When dinner is over, she helps us clear the table. I carry plates into the kitchen and hand them to the two as they do the dishes by hand. Our dishwasher had died earlier in the day, causing Britt to have a freak-out over dirty dishes. I had a horrible waking-nightmare over being in the 1950s over that. Thank God it ended quickly when I finished washing everything by hand.

"Y'know," she says to Britt, "It's nice to see a marriage that actually works." I pause, holding a few glasses in my hand. "You and Santana are like the most well-adjusted high school sweethearts I've ever met." My jaw drops. How...how did she not _know?_ Did June not tell her? What the _fuck?_

"Um, we're not married," Britt says, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Oh," Quinn backtracks. "I figured you would be by now." Brittany looks like she's trying to think of what to say and I decide to help her out.

"We were, but we're not now," I say firmly, handing the glasses over to our guest. Hopefully she'd get the hint and shut the fuck up. There's glorious silence for a few minutes and then Quinn opens her mouth again.

"Then why do you still live together?" I breathe out sharply and walk back into the dining room. Bailey is upstairs, trying to quickly build something for her Tante Quinn. I think it's ridiculous to give that woman anything, but whatever. Britt wants us to treat her like family, wants me to be civil. I'm trying, but Q keeps pushing all my damned buttons.

"That's a very long story," I hear Britt say.

* * *

_"Ana," she says quietly. I look over at her, my insides squirming as I take in the new scar on her jaw and the way she's slightly hunched over as if the world is breathing down her neck. "Can you...can you stay with me?"_

_"Sure, Britt," I say soothingly. "I'll stay with you tonight." She shakes her head, and I move closer to her. Her arms wrap around my waist and it feels like she's hanging on for dear life._

_"Not just tonight," she says. "I know we're getting divorced, but I need you to stay here in this house with me. I don't feel safe by myself." Realization dawns on me and I swallow the giant knot in my throat. Oh. Well fuck._

_"Okay," I say quietly. "I'll stay with you." She nods and I wrap my arms around her shoulders, holding her to me. If she needs me to comfort her, I will. We're still best friends, she's still my person. Nothing's gonna change that._

* * *

I sit down on the couch, holding my head._ Think happy thoughts,_ I tell myself. _Happy thoughts._ I close my eyes and try to find the happiest thing I can think of. Quinn had mentioned marriage. Well, fine. I'll think about that.

* * *

_There are bright azalea flowers everywhere. I really don't understand why Bee wanted them, but she did so we have them. Whatever. I'm totally not whipped. Just only sort of. Because it's our wedding and you have to let both people have things, right? And I had never really been up on the whole marriage thing, so I sort of let her take charge. Which totally sounds whipped. Fuck._

_But yeah. The church smells like flowers and candles and burnt wicks and that weird musty smell that churches always have. It kinda sucked that we couldn't get married back at St. Mary's where we had first met, but the Pope was still full of shit, so obviously it was probably a good thing we hadn't tried to convince them._

_The church that we're in is full and I can hear the people murmuring from where I stand. Julio was going to walk me up the aisle when the music started playing so I could meet Bee. She had decided that she wanted to wait for me at the altar instead of walking up the aisle after me. Which was totally fine. She was still wearing a dress as far as I knew. But it was cute how she had blushed and sort of mumbled her idea when she first came up with it._

_My fingers trace the petal of one of the azaleas and I smile. Today was going to be awesome. I bent slightly to smell it and..._

* * *

_...the clear glass vase on the windowsill caught the streetlight outside, causing it to glow orange as I sat back on the couch, my hands balled in fists. It was weird how pink flowers could almost turn orange if the light hit them just right._

_"Don't you listen to me?" She shouts. I glance over at her and close my eyes, breathing in for a moment._

_"Of course I do, Britt. All I ever do is listen to you," I say, trying to keep my calm. "Everything I do is for you. Nothing's ever for me. God!"_

_"I don't want it to be!" Her voice cracks and tears well up in her eyes. For someone who hated conflict so much when we were younger, she sure started a lot of it now. Or, at least, unintentionally started it. "I just want you to listen to me! I know you don't love me anymore and I'm trying, Santana. But sometimes I think that having Bailey to try to fix us was the dumbest idea we've ever had! A child isn't going to fix anything. Words fix things. Actions do. But not babies."_

_"I know, Britt," I say, softening. "I know."_

_"I just..." She throws her hands into the air and huffs, turning away from me. "I just feel so stupid. Why didn't I just admit to it?"_

_"Because you wanted to try, Britt. That's not stupid. That's better than my dad ever did," I say. She looks over her shoulder at me and I can see the tears streaming down her face. "Even if we don't love each other anymore, we're still friends. You know that, right? You're my Bee." She nods and moves back towards me. "Do you want to get a divorce?"_

_"I don't know," she sighs. "Maybe. We're kind of coming on the point of no-return, aren't we?"_

_"Yeah." She sits down heavily on the coffee table and my eyes go back to the vase of azaleas on the windowsill. "I think we should get a divorce, Britt." I can feel her eyes on me and I know that I'm probably going to stay with Kevin for the night._

_"Okay," she says simply. "Okay."_


	6. Intro to Resolutions 101

**Disclaimer:** If I owned _Glee_, there would be so many more gay ladies. Honestly. Also, more Brittana awesomeness.

glee-southwriter is a badass beta.

**********Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**Intro to Resolutions 101**

She's sitting next to me, not doing much of anything other than shifting and fidgeting. It's been like this since she sat down and I've managed to eat most of my lunch without her saying anything. To be honest, I think I'd rather have her talk than sit and be awkward. So she didn't know I was divorced. Big fucking deal. Move the fuck on. It's not like I really want her in my life that much anyways. She abandoned me and I've needed her so much and now she's here and she knows nothing. I don't know if I can ever trust her again.

After a few more minutes of her being weird, I finally lose my temper. "Fucking shit, Lucy Q. Grow a goddamned pair and just _talk_ to me. It's not that hard. Seriously. If you think that we're ever going to be friends again, you need to man up because this is ridiculous."

"I-I'm sorry," she says quietly. "I'm so sorry Santana. I've missed so much and I've–"

"Don't apologize," I say. A scene plays out in the back of my mind and words that utterly slayed me at the time escape my mouth. "Prove yourself and maybe then I'll forgive you." She freezes for a moment and I hope that she understands the irony. I had to prove my worthiness to her after how I treated Bee all those years ago. She has to prove herself to me now. Bee might be big on forgiveness and getting past things, but I'm not. I'm not the light hearted, optimistic person. I'm Santana-fucking-Lopez. Optimism is for pussies.

Her hazel eyes get this haunted look to them and her lips press together. "I don't know how, Santana. I don't know how to make this better." To be honest, I don't either. I feel sort of bad for tasking her with something that'll obviously be a practice in futility, but I don't know how to deal with her right now. I need space. I need her not to apologize. I need to figure things out for me.

I shrug and gather the remains of my lunch as the bell rings. I walk away from her, avoiding the sad eyes that I know are on my back. She's one of my oldest friends. And my own personal Judas. I don't know how to take her back. I want to try, but I just don't know if I can. Not as my best friend. I don't think that'll ever happen again.

* * *

"Ms. Lopez," her voice says, being formal because students are still milling around. I turn to find her leaning against a locker outside of my classroom, waiting for me. "Can you spare a minute?" I sigh internally.

"Dr. Fabray. Please make it quick. I'm late getting my daughter."

"I'll give you a ride," she offers. I bite the inside of my cheek before agreeing to it. It's cold out and the T is going to be over-crowded, so whatever. I'll get a ride. She leads me to an older Honda, unlocking the doors with a beep. I close the door quickly, rubbing my hands together and trying to get feeling back in them. She gets in and turns the engine on. The heater sputters to life and my leg bounces as I wait impatiently for it to kick in.

"I was thinking about what you said earlier," she finally says as she pulls onto the street. "Would you be all right with joining me for dinner? Because I really don't know how to prove myself to you without trying to re-establish a relationship first."

There's something about the word _relationship_ that sort of stings and burns and makes my stomach churn. I'm not really sure what or why, but it just does. Might be because I fail at most of my relationships. I mean, okay, so not _all_ of them. But the ones that matter most. Whatever. Maybe that's the reason. Maybe it isn't. I dunno. I really just need to sit and think and process and in order to do that, I need time away from the people that cause all this bullshit in my head.

"Sure," I say finally. I'm not really sure if I'm 100% on board with this idea, so I say the first thing that comes to mind. "Is it okay if Bailey comes with? She's been wanting to get to know her Aunt Quinn..."

I can see Q's face soften a bit. "Sure."

* * *

_I run my fingers through her light hair, so sure that I've never been apart of anything more important. This is my daughter, the person who's supposed to be the light of my life. And she is, I know she always will be. I wasn't entirely sure I was up for motherhood, but now that she's here and tangible, I'm not going to back down without a fight. She's my kid and she makes me feel so big and strong and tiny and weak. It's amazing._

_"I want Quinn to be her godmother," Britt's voice says from behind me. My hand pauses and I look over at her. She's wearing an oversized Columbia hoodie, her arms wrapped around her middle._

_"We don't even know if she's alive, Bee."_

_"I know," she says. "I'd know if she was dead. I'd feel it." I frown, not sure if she's high or what. It's like the times she would claim that Lord Tubbington would read her diary or whatever. Crazy shit flies out of her mouth at times and that's when I know she's stressed._

_"I don't see why you want her as Bailey's godmother." I can see her lip quiver as she turns from me. I sigh and lean into the bassinet to kiss my daughter's forehead before moving to my wife and wrapping my arms around her. "I guess Q could be her godmother in spirit."_

_"Good," Brittany says. I smile half heartedly, not wanting to upset her by showing how uncomfortable I am with this. Even if she is alive, she doesn't care about us enough to contact us. But, if it makes Bee feel better, then I'm all for it. Whatever. I guess June can be her godfather or something. At least she'd have one physical godparent..._

* * *

The child friendly place Quinn has chosen to eat at was Chuck E. Cheese. I didn't even know those places still existed, to be honest. I had hoped they died out with the rest of the crap that was popular when we were kids, but no luck apparently. Bailey takes one look at the giant crawl-maze and disappears into the mob of children. I bite the inside of my cheek, suddenly nervous at the thought of being alone with Quinn and surrounded by little ears and their mothers. If we happen to fight, I'll have to edit myself. And to be honest, I am god-awful at editing myself. Snix might be retired, but I still have rage. Sort of.

We put in an order for a pizza and sit down at a table, watching the madness unfold. I can tell she wants to say something, but I'm hoping she won't. I just want to spend a day without worrying when she's going to up and leave again, without being reminded that she used to be my best friend and then abandoned me. I just want to have one day without bad shit being brought up in my head. But that is a tall order apparently.

Awesome.

"I know you don't trust me," she says finally. "And I know that I deserve that. But I really want to try, Santana. You were my best friend. We grew up together and your mother was practically my own. I know I fucked up, but can you give me another chance?"

"If you think bringing up Mamá is going to make me sympathetic, you've got another thing coming," I say, voice rough. Why did she have to pick at a sore spot? Fucking hitting below the belt.

"That's not why I brought it up, Ana. I...you and Bee and June are the closest thing I have to family and I regret what I did." I sigh, crossing my arms and closing my eyes, trying not to lash out at her. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," I say finally. "But, family doesn't just up and leave, Q. That's not how it works." She nods and a pimply teenager with our pizza arrives, placing it down on the table. Somehow, Bailey senses the presence of food and appears, bouncing up and down in the empty chair between us.

"Food!" she squeals. "Pizza is the bestest food ever, Tante Quinn. It's like a vegetable or something." Quinn chuckles and passes her a paper plate with a slice on it. I smile slightly, wondering if Q ever got to see Beth again after high school. One of these days, I'll have to ask.

It's not until we're leaving the god-awful establishment that I turn to her and nod slightly. "Okay," I say. "I'll give you a chance." Quinn grins widely and moves like she's going to hug me before pausing, not sure if it's a good idea or not. I roll my eyes and wrap my arms around her. Bailey joins in, wrapping her little arms around our legs. I figure we've got to look like weirdos, hugging in the middle of a parking lot.

But it sort of feels good after all this time. Lucy Q is finally home. And she'd better fucking stay here this time.


	7. Disarm

**Disclaimer:** If I owned _Glee_, there would be so many more gay ladies. Honestly. Also, more Brittana awesomeness.

glee-southwriter is a badass beta.

**********Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**Disarm**

I lay back on the couch, pretending to watch some reality show rerun as Britt-Britt flutters around the living room. She's been full of bounding excitement ever since I told her that Quinn and I were trying to be friends again. Even more so when I told her we were going out for coffee. She had squealed and hugged me as tightly as she could, inadvertently trying to suffocate me. Jason had smiled at me, patting my shoulder before following his babbling girlfriend out onto the porch.

I glance up at the clock, noting the time. I have thirty minutes to walk to the café we agreed on. Standing, I move over to where Brittany is and wrap my arms around her waist, stopping her fluttery, nervous cleaning. I feel her start to relax and she reaches back, cupping my face in her hand.

"It'll be fine, Bee," I whisper, using the old pet name. "I promise it'll be fine."

"She's back, Santana," she whispers back. "She's back and you're going to coffee with her and I just...I don't want to jinx it. I want you to be friends again because I missed her and I want her in my life and-and–"

"I know," I say soothingly. "I know. I promise I'll be so nice the cotton candy'll melt in my mouth, okay?"

"Okay," she says. I press my lips to the backside of her chin before releasing my hold on her. The only thing I hate about sharing a house with her is how much it sometimes makes me wish I still loved her as more than a friend. But that's only once in a blue moon, so we're okay the rest of the time.

I head to the entryway, slipping my boots on and grabbing a coat. Brittany follows me, helping me loop one of her oversized wool scarves over my neck. I would protest, but she needs to feel like she's doing something useful or she'll freak out. I know my Bee.

"Thanks, Britt-Britt," I say when I'm all bundled up. "See you later?"

"Okay," she grins. I make a mental note to text Jason and see if he'll come over to distract her while I'm gone. Either that or keep her company while she lets her OCD loose on the house...

Boston is freezing and grey and dirty. Sometimes I wish the pure white snow we always had around Lima. Here, it's all dirty and blackish-grey, sloshy and gross. Depressing. I move quickly, not feeling in the mood to get soaked with sloppy snow whenever a car goes by.

After a few minutes, I can see the little café ahead and I breathe out a little in relief. My eyes are watery and despite the scarf, I don't think I can feel my nose. I enter the building quickly and stomping my boots clean of snow and pulling the scarf from over my mouth. It's warm and smells like heavenly roasted coffee and I can see open chairs by the fireplace. I love this café.

I move over to an armchair and strip down to my sweater, hanging my coat over the back of the chair to dry before I go order a plain black coffee. The little bell over the door jingles and I flinch at the burst of freezing air. The lady behind the counter smiles and says she'll bring me my drink when the new pot is done brewing.

"Hey," a voice says from behind me. I turn to see Quinn standing there with a soft smile on her face. "You're over by the fire, right?" I nod and watch her disappear to set her coat down in the chair by mine. Despite her fears when we were teenagers, she hasn't gone back to _'Lucy Caboosy'_ at all. She might be a bit curvier, but she still looks like she runs regularly. I realize I'm staring at her ass and look away uncomfortably, biting my lip before heading back over to the fire.

"I'm going to get some tea," she says before wandering off. I sit in the chair and stare into the fire, not sure what to think. _Her ass is aesthetically pleasing, _I think to myself. So is Britt-Britt's and quite a few other women's.

When Quinn gets back, we sit in silence until the lady brings us our drinks. I take a long sip of my coffee, wincing slightly at my now-burnt tongue, before looking up at her. I never thought I'd see her brunette again, but it's...it's both a welcome change and a slightly confusing one. She hated being brunette (though, you could argue that it was because of her father...), but at the same time, the Quinn that had hurt me most was a blonde... _You're not even thinking clearly right now,_ I tell myself. _Stop it._

"So," I drawl. "Tell me about Yale." She quirks an eyebrow before setting her tea down and smiling. She starts talking about being utterly terrified at the size of the school, at how smart everyone was. At how alone she felt the first year, having only made two or three friends. She talks about how she was pen pals with June via email, how she missed all of us constantly, even after a few years. She speaks about graduating, about grad school and becoming roommates with June when he started undergrad. She makes me laugh with tales of his disastrous cooking attempts and how she'd find him asleep at the coffee table, face stuck to a book.

Then she asks me about Columbia, how I became a teacher. I tell her about originally studying premed, but deciding that I really didn't enjoy it as much as I thought I would. I tell her about falling in love with history after my first college-level world civ class and deciding that that was what I wanted to do with my life. I had only had one or two teachers before that who had ever made me feel excited to learn anything. And I realized I could do that for some other kid, somewhere. I tell her about feeling like a bit of a slacker as I started working while Britt went to grad school, but the accomplishment I felt after seeing a student who had been failing start getting C's and B's and sometimes even A's. I tell her about getting married, about Bailey's birth. And the shooting. Her face falls at that.

"I'm sorry I missed that," she says. "After I finished my PhD, I went abroad with the Peace Corps. I didn't get a lot of news from back home. I didn't hear about it until I got a letter from June a few months later. And by then, I figured it was too late. I didn't want to come back just because Bee had been shot. I wanted to come back when I was ready, when I knew I could handle it."

"What couldn't you handle?" I ask as she fishes her phone out of her pocket. She swears lightly before looking up at me with a smile.

"Another time?" she asks. I frown slightly, but agree. What was so awful that was keeping her from us? Was it what drove her away in the first place?

Was it something we did?


End file.
